Cet Amour Entre Nous Est Une Guerre
by Celesteennui
Summary: Sequel to La Théorie Triangulaire De L'Amour. Some might say that being in love is a lot like waging a war; you fight to make it work. After all, if it isn't a struggle how else can you know that what you have is the real deal? FemBoss/Matt Miller. Rated M for grown-up time and violence.
1. I Never Lowered My Shield

**Disclaimer:** Volition owns it all, I'm not getting paid, please don't sue me.

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**1. The Boss**

"Do you think we'll be fighting the Zin the rest of our lives?"

Matt is the only lover from whom Fray has ever tolerated pillow talk. Or snuggling. Or spooning. Or drooling in her hair. He makes all of it work, though.

Mostly because nine times out of ten, before any of that can happen, he makes her legs numb and her brain mush.

This morning's a little different. They've woken up slowly, taking their time to fully come to. Fray thinks she could get used to it.

She shrugs. "Not if I have anything to say about it, no."

He grins against her shoulder; it's something that Fray feels rather than sees. The image is crystal clear, though; she's mapped and memorized every pore on Matt's face. She's going to keep that dorky smile of his until every synapse in her brain stops firing.

"What do you want to do?" he asks after few moments of lipping the shell of her ear. "When this is all over, I mean."

Fray snorts. "Assuming we live?"

"Sure."

Honestly, Fray hasn't let herself think about things like that. Missing the Earth, her friends, her home, all of that is unavoidable. The future, though? Anything past a solid twenty-four hour period? _That_ is just a little too far for this mess she and her crew have fallen into.

"Don't know." She rolls onto her back and Matt adjusts accordingly. He props his head on his hand while Fray pillows one arm behind her head. Their legs stay tangled, just because. "Kinda been focused on finding the best route to tear Zinyak's head off his shoulders. What do you wanna do?"

He looks thoughtful for a second or two, bright blue eyes flicking upward. "Well, Asha's idea about finding a beach planet isn't without appeal."

"No it isn't," she agrees. God, what she wouldn't give for real sand in under feet and a real sky above her.

"Mostly, though, I just want to fuck you in a bed that isn't virtual or on this bloody ship."

Fray laughs while the thing in her chest stutters. He wants a future with her, that's the real core of those words. She's known this wasn't just them sleeping together for a while now and she accepts that. An "after", though, to this strange, oddball story of theirs? Is that even possible?

"Oh, yeah?" She distracts herself from the all of the pounding in her ears by pushing Matt onto his back and crawling on top. Hovering close on hands and knees, Fray brushes her lips to his when she speaks. "Does that mean you're bored and you don't want to—?"

Matt responds predictably. Somewhat. Fray expects how his hands slide possessively up her sides and the closing distance between their mouths. Her…boyfriend (never going to be easy to jump on that label wagon) managing to distract her enough that he can flip her onto her back is a surprise. A pleasant surprise, in fact.

Matt takes a couple of seconds to grin down at her, too big for the pants he isn't wearing. "Let's not get carried away, shall we?"

"Never."

He kisses her once more before his lips start a trail down her body.

The idea of life beyond this fight with Zinyak, outside the confines of their purloined baby battle-cruiser, really isn't something Fray wants start escaping into. The problems of the present are too important to risk on any sort of daydreaming. She's not opposed to the plan that Matt's proffered however, and not just because he's doing the swirly thing with his tongue.

That's the scary, makes-her-chest-vibrate part.

**2. Matt**

The day starts out really well. Matt gets woken up via blowjob and spends most of the morning in bed with Fray, searching for new ways to make her whimper. Then she listens to his ideas for a new Nyteblade simulation, even inquiring to how much he has coded. Fray has yet to say "I love you" back to him, but Matt's seriously considered it to be implied by the continuing lack of criticism for his vampire obsession.

And then Kinzie ruins everything.

That's not fair; it isn't Kinzie's fault that the coding program that they designed to lock on Johnny Gat's mental signature goes off. It just happens and he knows that she was hoping it never made a sound just like he was.

Still, it's hard not to resent her a little bit in the end.

They look at each other after the code is traced. There's no mistake. It took almost two months and an endless litany of firewalls and backtracking, but the signature is a 99.9% match.

"We have to tell her," Kinzie says after a few minutes where they stare at the code and then one another.

"Do we?" It's not that he doesn't want Fray to get her friend back, he does. Matt would do just about anything for that woman, even if he won't come right out and say as much. Love is making him stupid.

Over most things, anyway. This thing, this one rather big, life-changing thing, he's being very sensible about.

Kinzie bites her lip, uncertainty lining her face for the first time since…God, since he's _known_ her. It's an agreement on a moral level but she isn't convinced, the pinched line of her shoulders alone tells him that. He presses on; persuading her _has_ to happen.

"Kinzie, we can't," he says. "We just—we can't. It's…it's asking too much. The Zin need to be our focus. _Surviving_ needs to be our focus. Going after Gat could wipe us out and you know it."

It could wipe _Fray_ out. And that is one thing Matt will not allow. Not while he is breathing.

"So your suggesting that we, what, hide it?" The words don't come with any anger or disdain, but the blunt disbelief in them cuts. "Fray may not be able to program a DVR schedule but she'd figure this out. Eventually, she would. And she definitely won't forgive us."

"I don't bloody well care if she forgives me, I care if she lives!" The vehemence in Matt's voice startles the both of them. Kinzie blinks, as if his face just changed, as if there was suddenly a new person standing in front of her. It turns his stomach a little, even more so when the right corner of her mouth quirks upward and she shakes her head.

"Shit." She takes off her glasses, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Shit. Fuck."

Matt has no idea where this is going. Instinct says nowhere good but he denies the impulse to duck and cover. He's fairly certain she isn't going to choke him out.

Her gray-blue eyes aren't exactly soft when they come back to Matt's face, but they're also lacking in the usual razor-edged gleam that usually comes his way.

"I thought it was just fucking with you two," she says, an almost-amused smile in place. "I really did."

Matt shrugs, trying to tamp down the heat that he feels inching up his throat. "So did I. For a bit, at least."

Kenzie laughs; it's not a particularly mirthful sound. "How in the hell do sociopaths even fall in love?"

"Not easily, in my experience."

Another laugh and she's back to being serious. "We've got to tell her, Matt. Fray's too loyal; she'd want to go no matter who it was in her crew that Zinyak was keeping. Shaundi, Pierce, me, you." She looks very pointedly at him over the tops of her glasses on the last word. "The Earth was atomized because I made the call to pull Fray out of her prison. That was my gamble and I lost. Fray deserves the same choice."

"That's not a good argument," he says.

Kinzie smiles again. "Yeah. I know."

**3. The Boss**

On the day they go to free Johnny, Fray feels tension in the air the moment that she wakes. Half of it's because sleep the previous night was plagued with bad dreams about all of the shit Evil-her had been spewing in Asha's prison. The other half is because Matt is already out of bed when her eyes open and after nightmares that involve his dead body, that can't bode well for the rest of the day.

She hates being prophetic.

"It feels weird not being in a shitty sports bar," she says to no one in particular as she climbs into her pod. Fray's whole body feels like it might vibrate to pieces. Johnny is just a circuit away. She's getting him back, she's bringing him home.

Zinyak is _so_ utterly fucked.

For whatever reason, everyone is in the room, and aside from Fray, Matt, and Kinzie, playing cards. It's as if they're back in Stillwater, having a lazy day instead of teetering on the edge of disaster. Fray appreciates the little attempts at normalcy.

"You could always name the ship the Broken Shillelagh," Pierce suggests.

Kinzie's shoulders tighten. "Not funny." She's scared and that, in turn, scares Fray.

She bottles that up, though. "Kinzie, relax."

"Doing my best."

"Look," Fray scrabbles to reassure the redhead, "if you're worried about me going brain dead, I figure it's part of the de—"

"You have to say something," Matt cuts in. Fray's eyes flick to him but he isn't looking at her. He seems to be trying _not_ to look at her, turning his body toward Kinzie. She doesn't miss the rigidness of his stance, though, or his scowl.

She frowns and resists the urge to grab his arm. Instead, she asks, "What aren't you telling me?"

Scowling, but not looking away from the computer, Kinzie says, "Thanks, Matt."

"Kinzie…"

Matt finally looks at Fray. "It's not _you_ she's worried about, it's everyone else." The light in his blue eyes and the way his tongue presses his upper lip say that he, on the other hand, _is_ worried about her. _Very_ worried. The thing in her chest wriggles and Fray considers slapping herself.

All eyes are suddenly dancing between Matt and she. "This is going to get real exciting." Beneath the dryness, Asha sounds worried too.

"It doesn't matter," Kinzie says.

Pierce does _not _help. "I have a feeling we're about to disagree."

"Saving Gat is a terrible idea."

Matt says those words and something inside of Fray pops. Her arm moves back without a thought behind it but her weight follows, making a line straight to Matt's jaw. He goes down and she straddles him, her fist repeating the action. Fray doesn't feel herself doing it, her body is one big, pulsing nerve and the only thing she can comprehend is fear. Johnny needs her and Matt has presented himself as an obstacle.

She _will_ get to Johnny. She _will_ save her best friend. She will not fuck up a second time. _She will destroy whatever or whoever tries to stop her._

Fray comes back to herself as King takes hold of her. He jerks her backward, off of and away from Matt. She doesn't resist. There's blood in Matt's mouth, his jaw is already purpling, and it's her hands that have done it.

She sees the "evil" version of herself from Asha's nightmare, hears her giggling. A bullet or a fist. Really, which one is kinder?

Static fills Fray. She's aware of the turmoil around her; that Pierce, Asha, and Shaundi are having their own scuffle. Fray doesn't care though; she's too preoccupied with Matt lying on the floor in front of her.

He's breathing. Thank fuck, he's breathing and sitting up.

Kinzie's voice finally breaks through.

"_Stop it_! He's right, okay? It's a terrible idea." Gray-blue eyes bore into Fray as Kinzie steps forward. "In order to save Johnny, we have to tap our ship directly into his mind, and that means Zinyak's going to know exactly where we are. You're asking Matt and I to paint a target on Humanity's last hope so you can go and rescue someone we've never even met! And what's even stupider is that we're going along with it!"

She waves at Matt, as if Fray doesn't realize what she's done. Vaguely, Fray is aware of how strange it is to see Kinzie, of all people, defending him. She's also hyper aware of what that says about what _she _just did.

"That guy you just beat the shit out of is risking everything to save _your_ friend. And you wanna know why? Because we can't save ours anymore." For just a second Kinzie's face falls and her eyes clench. It's fleeting but her grief is still tangible, especially when she speaks again. "Oleg is dead. Viola is dead. Earth is dead. So how about you stop being a fucking asshole and say 'thank you, for giving me the hope you'll never have'?"

Fray is still numb. She has no idea what her face is doing, or any conscious recollection of commanding her muscles, but she's in motion. A hand covered in skin that doesn't feel like she's even underneath it extends to Matt. "I'm sorry."

They're sad words. Not because of regret, but because she can't think of anything more substantial.

He takes her hand and she hoists him up.

A smile twitches on his mouth and Fray wants to scream. He's not allowed to smile at her, not after what she just did. He needs to put a knife in her or at the very least hit her back. "Yeah well, you could have killed me back in Steelport but you let me go. I can forgive a few punches."

No, he shouldn't. Forgiveness isn't allowed, not for this. Not for anything like this.

The part of Fray's brain that's responsible for the survival of herself and the people around her takes over, pushing all of the feelings she has to the back and locking them away for the moment. Autopilot sense takes over, she pats Matt's shoulder, and he smiles at her again while her stomach rolls.

This is about Johnny. Save him first, everything else can wait.

There's no avoiding her epiphany, though. Evil-her was right; Fray sees it clearly just before the Simulation Pod sucks her in, written all over Matt's bruised jaw. Everything that she loves, she destroys.

**4. Matt**

His jaw is going to be fine, of that, Matt has no doubt. He understands what made Fray snap; say what you will about the woman but perfidious she is not. That dogged loyalty is one of the many things—and yes, for all that they disagree on there is also much of the opposite—he admires about her. Matt really can—_and does_—forgive the blows.

Ironically, this one grudge Matt can let go of is also the one Fray can't.

He's in the cargo bay after the "Welcome Back" celebrations for Gat when Fray finds him. Everyone else had passed out in the common area except for himself and Kinzie; they still have work to do, re-cloaking the ship. In Fray's arms, there is a plastic crate containing all of his personal effects that he's been keeping in her room.

Matt's whole body goes numb as he watches her sit the crate down on the sofa. She stands, meeting his stare with her own. For once, she doesn't try to hide anything; the sadness lining her pretty, angular face is heavy.

"I gave the room to Gat," she says. Her hands move, as if to slide into pockets. Instead, they end up awkwardly smoothing over her hips. "I'm bunking with Shaundi now." She gnaws her lower lip; Matt's always thought she looks like a child when she does that. It's his second favorite tic of hers. "Thanks, I—I liked being with you. I really, _really_ did."

"Then don't put it in the past tense." It's as close to begging as Matt will go. Despite some tendencies he has, he is not a baby, and he's not so naïve as to think it would help.

Another thing he adores about Fray; when she makes up her mind nothing short of an act of god can sway her.

She shakes her head. "Asha's nightmare was right; I'm a wrecker. Built a great fucking career on it. Also lost too many people that I cared about because of it." Her nose and cheeks are flushed and her eyes glint at the edges. Nothing about her trembles, however, there isn't even a hint of lip-wobbling. "I lucked out and got Johnny back. I won't be that lucky twice."

"So what? You're cutting me loose as a grand gesture of your feelings?" Honestly, Matt doesn't mean to sound so bitter. There's a lead ball in his chest, though, trying to push its way out through his throat and it _hurts_.

_That_ makes her flinch but sharp chin juts out, stubborn as ever. "I almost killed you."

"And I already told you that I forgive you, dammit!"

"See, that isn't the problem, Matt. The problem is that _I_ don't forgive me." Her eyes linger on him a few seconds more and then she's turning away.

Pride binds his already tight throat. Fray leaves him defeated, just like she did six years ago, only this is so much worse. This is the real world; he's going to bleed out from this wound.


	2. I'm Still Holding My Sword

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing and I'm not making any money. Enjoy!**  
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P.S. There is a soundtrack for this story, you can find the link to my 8tracks on my profile.

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**1. Matt**

He would sincerely like to believe that if they weren't confined to the ship, getting over Fray would be possible. It's not that simple, Matt's common sense has that fact down pretty well. However, it is _so_ much easier to pretend when everything hurts. Dragged over a parking lot full of broken glass kind of hurt.

In five days of being broken up, Matt can count the number of times that he's seen Fray on one hand. They've gone into overdrive mode breaking down the Simulation and she, Shaundi, Gat, and Asha are acting as battering rams wherever he and Kinzie direct.

He keeps waiting for the anger and resentment to sink in. Matt wants to hate her, wants to begrudge every smile that crosses her face (he can count those on his fingers too). Mostly, though, he just wants to feel something that isn't a massive ache beneath his ribcage.

The last thing he would ever expect is that Shaundi would be the one to help alleviate it.

"You're an idiot."

The barb comes from nowhere; only exhaustion keeps him from hitting the ceiling. He's been working for sixteen hours straight, trying not to listen in on Fray who's bulldozing in the Simulation with Gat at her side. It's impossible enough already to not be jealous of Gat considering that he's a walking legend; it isn't even feasible for Matt when the other man is constantly keeping his ex-girlfriend company.

Shaundi is glaring up at him (nothing new there), arms crossed. He can't fathom how Zinyak survived those sharp eyes. It doesn't help that at the back of his mind, Matt can't stop recalling that this is the woman who made a sport of hunting down Killbane and his surviving Luchadores.

"Okay." It's the only logical reply.

She rolls her eyes. "Ugh. See, this is why I knew you'd be bad for her. Your spine might as well be made of Jell-O."

Matt's skin prickles at that, but he doesn't protest. He's alone up here, without even Kinzie to assist if Shaundi decides she wants to make a necklace out of his teeth.

Dear lord, he's equating Kinzie with safety. That's it. This is the Twilight Zone. Or an obscure circle of hell.

Jesus, what if he's _still_ in his oubliette?

"You were _supposed_ to argue with her." Evidently, she doesn't notice the lag in his attention. Probably for the best. Matt's quick to catch onto her lecture anyway. "That's what Fray _likes_ about you, masochist that she is."

Wait is Shaundi trying to...?

No way.

"Aren't you supposed to hate my guts?" he asks.

Her nose wrinkles. "Don't flatter yourself. Hate's more effort than you're worth."

"Ouch."

"You'll get over it," she says. Those brown eyes of hers slide over his face like knifepoints. "Now, why in the actual fuck is Fray still sharing a room with me?"

Matt looks down at the computer screen. He's successfully avoided talking about this pitfall with Asha, the notion of discussing it with Shaundi is…less than ideal.

Or maybe that's what in fact, makes her quite ideal. There's no chance of her being dishonest with him.

"I didn't exactly toss her out, you know," he says. "_She_ ended it." The ever-present pain blanketing his sternum doubles. "And she _won't_ hear reason. Woman's a bloody brick wall."

"So be a battering ram."

He jerks his head up when she says that and Shaundi regards him flatly. Her arms uncross then curl into fists on her hips. She looks like she could backhand Wonder Woman, standing like that.

"I know better than anyone else how Fray doesn't listen when it's in her best interest," Shaundi tells him. A smile tugs at the right corner of her mouth. "She's single-minded, snaps shut on a whim, and then has the gall to act surprised when she ends up hurting herself because she doesn't have the look-out. She's an asshole. But she's an asshole I love to death, and sometimes she needs a throat-punch to see what's right in front of her."

"I don't—I don't think I can do that…" It's not a moral stance at all. "Never hit girls" is a sexist ideal when it comes to self-defense situations. Matt, however, is a little more preoccupied with the fact that he couldn't punch his way through a cereal box.

Shaundi laughs. "No shit you couldn't. Think metaphorically, spaghetti arms."

Matt ignores the impulse to argue with her about his arms. "So, okay, your advice is to what, exactly? Barrage her with affection like a creepy, can't-take-a-hint, fedora-wearing stalker?"

Another laugh comes, this one, along with the smirk, almost appearing to be genuinely amused. "Yeah, probably not the route I'd vote for but hey, whatever works. Boss _is_ kinda weird; fell for you after all."

"I think you're assuming a lot on the 'fall' part." It's a token protest, something to distract himself from the heat marching up his neck and into his jawline. "She never said she loved me."

"Again, you're an idiot," Shaundi tells him. "I've heard your fucking name muttered more while I'm trying to fall asleep in the last four nights than I thought was humanly possible. It's either love or a murder plot. Or both. I don't really care. Just work whatever nerd magic got you in her pants to begin with, Miller. Preferably before I smother her with a pillow and knock your skinny ass out of the airlock."

She marches off then, which is just as well. The inclination to throw his arms around Fray's best friend has begun to grow exponentially. He might not actually get the airlock but with Shaundi, it's best not to question. Besides, Matt needs to figure out a plan for all of the good advice she just tossed into his lap.

**2. The Boss**

Fray isn't sure which is more disconcerting, the fact that Matt has voluntarily left his laptop in favor of (non-sex related) physical activity or that he and Shaundi aren't bickering. Actually, it's kind of both. She's also just a little bit distracted by his shirtlessness to be concerned with anything for a moment or two.

When did pale and wiry start making her mouth water exactly? And (more importantly) how does she make it stop?

Stopping is something that doesn't happen, however, both of the Pavlovian-hormonal sort and in the fact that Fray's curiosity drives her to look on. Especially when Matt manages to toss Shaundi over his shoulder.

It doesn't hurt Shaundi at all, of course. She rolls with it and stands straight in a second. Clapping her hands brusquely, she nods to Matt.

"Good. You've got the leverage pop down. Let's try it from your weak side."

Matt only nods back, taking the defensive stance to mirror Shaundi's aggressive one. Fray watches in shock as, once again, her best friend goes over Matt's shoulder and rolls over the training mat.

"Woo, someone learns fast." Johnny's been beside Fray the whole time, using her shoulder as a post to lean against as they watched. However, she's been so wrapped-up in watching this strange scene unfold, she sort of forgot him.

Shaundi acknowledges Johnny and her with a grin. Matt doesn't meet her eyes but nods his head a little, mopping some of the considerable amount of sweat from his forehead.

"Not really," Matt says. "That was two hours' worth of practice. Plus she's going easy on me."

"You're a baby, you can't handle a full assault yet," Shaundi says. "A change-up in weight wouldn't hurt, though. Boss," she waves to Fray, "tag me out."

Fray blinks. "'Scuse me?"

Shaundi's eyes roll. "Fray, it wasn't a fat joke. You've got a lot more muscle mass than I do and you know it."

Rolling with the fact that Shaundi's misinterpreted why she just balked, Fray raises her middle finger. "So does Pierce, why haven't you recruited him to be the punching bag?"

"Because he's actually doing something for once," Shaundi says. "Let's not risk ruining that."

"Go on." Gat pushes her forward. "You could use with a little humbling, Boss Lady."

"I'll humble your ass," she tells him. Fray continues onto the makeshift sparring arena because she can't think up a good enough excuse not to. Thankfully, she only has to stare at Matt's back, though, as Shaundi takes advantage of this teachable moment, that doesn't become so helpful.

Without a word she hooks Fray's arm up and over Matt's head and the other up under his left arm to form a basic chokehold. She presses them close together, lower belly to backside. Fray could already smell him at two feet away; the tang of sweat covering up the usual squeaky, clean soft skin. This close if she breathes deeply enough she can actually _taste_ him. Unsurprisingly, it's taking everything in Fray not to shiver and bury her nose in the nape of his neck.

Shit, Shaundi's talking.

"—denser and that means you pivot more for the throw. Try a soft lift first, just for feel."

"Okay," Matt says and he stoops then pitches lightly forward. Fray's feet come a few inches off the ground. The friction of her suit sliding against his, however slight that it is, drives her crazy and she finds herself desperate to wrap her legs around his waist.

Holy fuck is she hard-up…

Busy as she is with trying to control her hormones, Fray misses Shaundi's "Go", and thus, is wholly unprepared to be flung over Matt's shoulder. She manages not to hurt herself on impact but there's no avoiding looking like an ass. Neither Johnny nor Shaundi bother to hide their laughter. Fray raises her middle finger as she sits up.

"I love you too." Shaundi blows her a kiss. "Stay there, though. Perfect opportunity to practice a pin."

"What?" Fray is ignored and pushed back flat against the floor mat by one (supposed) best friend while the other grins down at her. Assholes. All of her friends are assholes.

"Okay so first, drop down on her middle." Shaundi's back to directing. "If this were real, you'd put both knees into her first, trying to crack some ribs. After that, you'd straddle. Go ahead and pick up on the second part."

Fray is whooshed back into that surge of _want_ as Matt obeys. She does her best not to look at him; her head is drowning in the last time that they fucked with him on top. Her spine itches to arch, for more friction, for him to slide down just a little more and…

"Now you'd punch, strangle, or whatever, if you were going for a hard knock-out or kill," Shaundi's voice helps to turn Fray's blood down. Not much, but hey, anything helps at this point. "Since we're not that far ahead, let's just practice a hold. Get her wrists."

Fray hears her, but she's still not quite primed for Matt taking hold of her arms. He puts his weight into it, granted he doesn't exactly have much of that going on but it _feels_ forceful enough. Dominant. Confident.

Shit. Should not have looked up.

Face red, though to be fair he's been exercising kind of hard, so that's to be expected, Matt's blue eyes are intense on her face. She can feel how shallow his breath comes in; can feel his heartbeat through his palms and even more in the inch-or-so gap between their chests. Fray wants him to destroy that gap and shove his tongue down her throat. She wants them naked and her legs over his shoulders. She _needs_ Matt because now that he's close again, the ache that's been clinging to her ribs for six horrible days has disappeared and she can finally breathe again.

Best of all that want is mirrored on Matt's expression and if he just leans in a little more…

Or, that's the feeling for about two seconds. After those two seconds, she sees the mottled green undertone on his pale jaw; the imprint of her knuckles. Arousal snaps to guilt so fast that it makes her nauseous.

In one smooth roll, she dislodges Matt and jumps up. She doesn't say a word or look back. Not at Shaundi, not at Johnny, and especially not at Matt. Fray doesn't stop walking until she's back in the pod room and escaping into the Simulation.

**3. Matt**

Shaundi tells him that he should consider their "training exercise" a victory. Matt would like to, but it's hard to shake off the raw panic that plastered Fray's face right before she pushed him off. Fray was _scared_ in those last few seconds, just utterly fucking terrified, and while he wants her back, he can't do anything like that again to get her back. That leaves him a bit at a loss when it comes to figuring out his next step.

Help comes again, luckily, from an unexpected source.

It's after the little Murder Bowl game he set up for them. Fray and Gat are in the Broken Shillelagh, taking a moment and a beer. Matt shouldn't be listening in on this, that much he's sure of. Voyeurism isn't exactly a crime he's had a problem committing before though, and the temptation is undeniable when Fray is smiling.

It is the weirdest thing, missing a smile more than sex. But then Matt was already aware that love has done horrid, irreparable things to his brain.

"Okay, so you're telling me Shaundi—_our_ Shaundi—went headhunting?" Gat asks, leaning against the bar as if he owned it. He probably could, if he deigned to try. It's a trait that Matt both admires and is terrified of.

Fray snorts into the top of her beer. Her right hand moves, as if to push her hair out of her eyes; she's forgotten that she bound it back in a tight tail that morning. Matt is baffled by how he can't remember that tic and yet miss it so vehemently.

"Yes, she did," Fray tells him, no shortage of pride in her voice. "It was mostly just rooting out Luchadores and some Morningstar assholes who couldn't take a hint from Viola's defection. I think she might have actually caught Killbane, dropped him off in the Mojave, and then hunted him down with a crossbow, though."

"Wow." Gat sounds impressed.

"Totally," Fray agrees. "She wanted him stuffed and mounted in HQ, but Pierce talked her out of it." She takes a sip of beer. "You know, I actually have _no_ idea what happened to that thing..."

Matt envies the comfortable silence that Gat can slip into with her. Narrowly over seven years out of contact and they move in sync around the pool table as if they'd never been parted at all. They speak with subtle flicks of eyebrows and wrinkling noses, laughing in tandem at unspoken jokes.

It's been just seven days of separation, but Matt barely even remember what it felt like to have that kind of closeness with Fray. He's also terrified that there's going to be no getting back.

"So…" Gat breaks the quiet just as Matt's about to tune out and do something less mopey with his time.

"So?" Fray counters, tossing another beer to her best friend.

Gat cracks open the battle on the side of the pool table. "Been hearing some interesting shit about you and that skinny fuck. What's his name?"

"Matt." Every muscle in Fray's body has gone rigid; Matt's has as well. "His name is Matt. And we're not talking about that."

Gat chuckles, leaning over the pool table to rack. "Really? We're not? 'Cause I think we kinda already star—"

His tease is interrupted by Fray's beer bottle clunking hard against the counter. Matt can't stop himself from jumping any more than the virtual Steelportians can, and _he's_ safe. Gat doesn't jump of course; he only looks at Fray over the tops of his shades, as if she were a small child.

Matt is among the few who have been able to acclimate to the glare that Fray currently wears without pissing himself. He's among the even rarer few who have had it leveled on them and survived. _Gat_ smirks at it—the man has Shaundi-size balls.

"_Shit_. I thought Pierce was just fucking with me." He takes a few steps back, crossing his arms, smugger than a body has ever had the right to be.

"I'm gonna gut Pierce for running his damn mouth and you too." She sounds pretty sincere, which surprises Matt. And delights him as well, if he's being honest.

"Pfft. Yeah okay." Gat takes the break and sinks about four balls in the process. "Hope your left hook's improved from the last time, Fraydeecat."

"Why did I want you back again?"

"'Cause no one gets on your ass like I do," he tells her, jabbing at Fray's side with the butt of his pool cue. She jabs back, glare unwavering, which is perfect, because neither has Gat's blasé attitude.

He scratches his next shot and, after kicking the side of the table, fearlessly slides up to the bar beside Fray. "Gotta say, it ain't like you to cut and run, girl. Well, not unless it was a robbery or some shit."

The hold Fray's locked around her temper wavers and it is frightening. "I didn't cut and or run!" she all but shouts, throwing down her beer. "I did the right fucking thing! _For once,_ I did the right thing and it sucks and I hate and I really fucking wish it was different! But it's been done; I can't take it back so everyone just needs to not talk to me about it before I lose my mind and drive us into the goddamn sun!"

Someone is going to die, Matt's positive. Maybe everyone. Considering all of the damage that Fray can do by herself it is more than just a tiny bit feasible to think that she and Gat will break the Simulation if they brawl. And it certainly looks like that's going to happen. Chest to chest, fists clenched; a modern clash of the titans teeters on the edge.

In what has to be a miracle, Gat puts his hands up. "Look, I don't wanna argue with you, a'ight? But you're the oldest friend I got; we're fucking family. And I ain't crazy about you making yourself miserable, Fray."

Looking as astonished as Matt feels, maybe even more so, Fray only stares as Gat nudges her arm and puts a new bottle of beer in her hand. Gat starts the game over as she gets her bearings. It's several long moments before she speaks.

"I snapped and almost killed him, Johnny." Fray's voice is quiet and more than just a little bit broken. Matt's chest aches for her; for himself too. "I didn't—if someone hadn't pulled me off…I don't even want to think about it. He's better off as far away from me as he can get."

Gat nods as he breaks; he's less lucky this round no balls are sunk. This doesn't seem to perturb him. "Yeah, that's pretty dick thing, chick. You apologize?"

"Of course I did." She looks angry that he would assume otherwise, or maybe hurt. Or more likely, Matt thinks, both.

"He forgive you?"

"Yeah." She's looking up at the light fixtures, jaw off-angle, like she trying to bite her tongue clean off.

"Then I don't see what your problem is." He leans against the bar right next to Fray. That look is back, the one where he stares pointedly just over the rims of his glasses. Patronizing as done by someone you might almost be proud to be patronized by. A friendly bump goes to Fray's shoulder. "Why don't you take it from someone who's already done the lengthy self-torture deal and get your head out of your ass?"

It is at this point Matt knows he has to stop eavesdropping. Not because any respect for anyone else's privacy has finally developed or because CID is in the mainframe again, surely taking note of what he's doing. It's not even remotely because King has come into the room and needs his attention.

Matt abandons his surveillance of the Broken Shillelagh because the look on Fray's face when Gat finishes talking, the one full of surprise, also has a hint of discovery, as if she _just_ realized what was being said. There is hope in that look, for Matt, and right now, hope is crushing his windpipe.

**4. The Boss**

Johnny has never been Fray's go-to advice guy. She loves him to death and all but emotional stuff? No. To him she does not go.

Actually, she doesn't really go to anyone with emotional stuff. Every now and then Shaundi will get her drunk and pry some things from her (which Fray secretly appreciates) but she's never done too well talking about her baggage. That's how five therapists all gave up on her by the time she hit seventeen and not even because she beat the snot out of them; that was a later phase.

Well, there was _one_ person who could get a genuine heart-to-heart out of her. She supposes it's a grand case of irony—or could it be fate?—that has Johnny sounding _just_ like Aisha that afternoon.

There isn't much of a chance for her to think about it though. In the middle of the next round of pool, Pierce comes along, telling her to call Ben. They're ready to go.

She pushes Matt, Aisha, and Johnny's advice to the back of her mind as the three of them drive to Kinzie's safe house. Endgame, the survival of the human race, and detaching Zinyak's fucking head in the most painful way possible, take precedence over her feelings.

Or they do until she's actually at the safe house and Matt is nowhere to be seen. Her nerves start humming and she tells them to calm the fuck down. If Kinzie isn't in a panic then _she's_ not going to be in a panic.

"I'm not late to the briefing, am I?" Fray asks as she jogs up to the upper level. Ben, Johnny, Kinzie, and Asha are already there.

Ben shakes his head, arms uncrossing as he turns toward her. "We haven't started yet. I'm waiting on Miller."

Maybe it's because she's always respected Ben. Or because, other than Johnny, he's the only person who can remember the pigtailed nineteen-year-old always running behind Lin without a word that Fray used to be. Maybe it's just because since he's started dressing like Morpheus in-Simulation, Ben exudes an air of wisdom.

Whatever the case may be, Fray finds herself saying (or rather confessing out loud), "I still feel bad about punching Matt in the face."

And Ben, the man who pulled her off of Matt, the man who's taken her to task in the last five years for her erratic temper more than anyone ever has before, smirks. It's a quick pull on the right corner of his mouth, but it stays in his eyes even after his lips return to the usual steady line.

"He'll get over it."

Okay, so two epiphanies in one day. That's…something.

Auto-sarcasm takes over. "Or he'll kill me in my sleep."

That makes Ben grin. He pats her arm. "That's always a possibility too."

"Whoa. Whoa. Whoa." Is it strange or impressive that Fray can see the glint of laughter in his eyes, even behind the prescription sunglasses? She likes to think it's impressive. And that Johnny is an asshole who never wastes an opportunity to rub in an I-told-you-so. "Guys, guys, can we just get to murdering already?"

Fray's "Shut up, dude" goes unsaid. Instead, Matt's frightened voice cracks through the air as he pounds up the stairs, trailed by Pierce and Shaundi.

"We've got a problem!"

Johnny winks at her, flexing his arms. "Now, we're talking."

Again, Fray pushes down all the mushy, useless nerves that respond to everything about Matt, but especially to his panic, and brings on the war-face.

Endgame. That is what's important today.

"What's up?" she asks, hoping she sounds more in-control than she feels.

It does not help that Matt is shaking. "The Zin are coming."

And he has a reason to be shaking, apparently. Shit. Fuck. Shit and fuck and every other curse word in every language.

"Here?!" Oh good. And now Kinzie is freaking. Best sign.

Fray loves Shaundi and her matter-of-fact bitch-face more than anything else in the world when she says, "That's probably why he said it's a problem." Her refusal to look rattled does wonders for Fray's own twisting gut.

"All right." Asha helps with steeling things up. Her gun is already out, locked, and loaded. "Let's take cover. We should be able to ambush them."

"Not so sure about that."

The parade is, unfortunately, rained on. Fray follows Shaundi's gaze to one of the thousands of screens Kinzie's set up around here. The perimeter, to say the least, does not look good. Even after taking down a few dozen Wardens and making scrapheaps of military bases, the sight of all of those soldiers and tanks does not go down well.

Fray pulls her SMGs from her HUB and looks at Johnny, then Shaundi, and finally Pierce. They nod in return. She catches Matt's eye as she turns toward the big stairwell that leads down to the heavy garage doors. Something needs to be said between them, some trivial words to at least…She doesn't know what.

But the garage doors are coming apart and they're out of time. Fray leaves her ex-lover behind as she sprints to defend the exit with both her two (or is it three with Fun Shaundi?) best friends.

She throws a hard blast of ice down right before the weird lights start flashing.

"Watch out!" Kinzie shouts above the rattle of bullets and shattering flesh. "They're using some sort of suppression grenades! They're trying to counteract our powers!"

While that _is_ kind of the last thing she wanted to hear, Fray still leaps over the rail and into the swarm on the ground level. "I don't need powers to kill these bastards!"

She doesn't. Zin, just like all the humans she'd taken on before them, go down pretty well after enough lead meets their skulls. Plus, Fray was smart enough to splurge on ammunitions upgrades so she and her crew won't be running out of lightning-laced bullets any time soon. Unfortunately, there are a lot of Zin to take out. Waves upon waves of the fuckers.

"How the fuck did they find your sanctum?" she demands, narrowly shoving a trooper between her skull and a laser blast. She shoots the offending gunner in a less than pleasant spot.

"I don't know!" Kinzie says. Fray is getting more and more worried by the distress seeping into the younger woman's voice.

Johnny is having no such problems. "Who cares? Let's just kill 'em!"

It's good advice, for the moment. Fray knows that she can shoot and shield herself for a damn long time. Longer probably than Johnny because, all joking aside, he usually _does_ take a big wound when shit like this goes down and then needs someone to drag him out. She's not too worried about Asha or even Ben, out of play as he's been. The others, though? Shaundi (both of them) Pierce, Kinzie, and Matt, no. They aren't going to last under a hard barrage. Not like she can.

Pierce voices this concern before she can. "Hey, we gotta go! There's too many of them!" She's not sure where he is, exactly but it sounds like he's still upstairs.

"There's a helicopter on a nearby roof!" Ben shouts somewhere to her left. "We can use it to get everyone to safety!"

Leaping over a couple of crates, Fray pulls the Black Hole Launcher out of her HUB and aims for the tank. The dust settles and, for a moment, they have a clear swath ahead of them.

"All right, everyone! Let's stick together—"

"Matt and I will head out on our own." Asha loses a couple of Presidential points for cutting off Fray's plan. And for suggesting that period. Splitting up never goes well; didn't she ever watch _Scooby Doo_ in between all of those _James Bond_ flicks?

Matt seems to share Fray's train of thought. "We _what_?!" The sound of his voice almost startles Fray; he's at her shoulder with his partner so fast. She thought he was still upstairs, with Pierce and Kinzie, picking targets.

Asha doesn't seem to notice Matt's surprise; she barrels on through the path that Fray just cleared. "Take care of your people. We'll catch up."

Fray does _not_ like the way that Asha says "your people", as if the two non-Americans weren't hers. They're _all_ hers right now; hell, the people tanked in Zinyak's ship are hers as far she Fray is concerned because, shit, there's almost none of them left. It also feels insincere, as if Asha doesn't think that they'll…

She has every intention of grabbing Matt and telling him that he's not going _anywhere_ without her. Asha too. Mostly him, though. But he's already too far ahead.

"Whatever." That's what she says instead, and goes to clear out the next wave of tanks that Ben is shouting about. It's an oddly—or maybe no so oddly—fragmented little word. It rings in Fray's ears as she climbs atop several freights and starts shooting. Pounding louder than her own heartbeat as she watches Matt and Asha drive off with cruisers at their heels.

_Whatever_ is the word that Fray thinks that she's so carelessly marked their relationship with. Because of this, later, when however briefly, while she believes that Matt and Asha have betrayed humanity, she can't even be angry with him for it. It's all "whatever" because she turned it into that with her feet-dragging, temper, and fear.


	3. If You Just Ask, I'll Lay Down My Arms

**Disclaimer:** Volition owns it all, I'm just playing with their toys. Also, reviews are nice.

One more to go!

* * *

**1. The Boss**

Looking at Kinzie's limp figure in her pod makes Fray sick. This new mess has the feel that Johnny's "death" had. Like Fray is a complete and utter failure. Then on top of it all lays Keith's betrayal; the cherry on a shit sundae.

And there's nothing she can do. Not one damn thing. She's helpless while Matt, assisted by CID and Shaundi, combs through the Simulation for clues.

Powerlessness isn't a feeling that she's fond of, to say the least. It makes her chafe and squirm until she'll do pretty much anything to scrub it off. In retrospect, this is a good thing, because it makes her follow impulse.

All impulses right now lead to one place.

She grabs an icepack, a couple of bananas, a bottle of water, some aspirin, and takes them to Matt before she even knows what she's doing. He looks every bit as surprised as Fray is when she sets it all down at his elbow. Well, all except the icepack; _that_ she presses to the spot on the back of his skull that he's been rubbing for the last hour while he makes a pained face.

For a few minutes Matt only stares at her, which Fray is fine with. Her brain is starting to catch up with what her gut has her doing and it's accompanied by her nerves.

"How's your head?" she finally asks.

He smiles, just a little. "Bit sore. Keith packs quite a punch."

"Yeah, he does, the son of a bitch." Fray has to fight the way her fingers want to curl into a fist. She doesn't fight the anger curling in her chest though. Keith nearly annihilated everything she has left to care about; she's going to kill him very slowly.

Her torture-plotting is interrupted by the feeling of Matt's hand covering hers. Startled though she is, Fray doesn't pull away. Part of her wants to but the rest of her, which is accompanied by a little voice that sounds very much like Aisha, refuses. Her heart is booming in her throat and she's tired.

"I am so sorry, Matt," she says. The pressure in Frays throat and chest loosen with the words, as if an iron fist is relaxing its clutch on her windpipe.

Matt's eyebrows draw down and his fingers curl tighter around hers. "What for?" Hope flickers around his too-blue irises; guarded well but still Fray doesn't miss it.

"For a second there I actually kinda believed you'd jumped ship," she tells him. "And I wasn't even mad at you because, honestly, I don't deserve the loyalty."

"Yeah, you do," he says.

Fray shakes her head. "No, I don't. Not after—" The protest ends as Matt's thumb slides over her lips. The hand that had been resting beside the keyboard holds her face now. His fingers spread across her jaw and cheek, gentle but firm. They're soft and cool, as always, and Fray finds herself leaning into that touch despite all of the reservations still weighing her down.

Silence rules between them for a few moments but it doesn't feel hard, or scary, or even awkward. Matt looks down at her as if he could live like this, as if he's waited his whole life for this second. The gravity of it all is so massive that Fray is surprised they aren't crushed to dust beneath it.

"I'm with you," he says and Fray doesn't doubt him an inch. "No matter what; Zin attack, engine overload, Genki Bowl." A short, sharp bark of laughter jumps from Fray when he says the last bit. "I'm with you. I _want_ to be with you. So stop telling me that I shouldn't."

If they kiss, it's all over; in a good way of course. More than a week's worth of an aching chest cavity and sleeplessness was already grating at her resolve. Getting an earful from Johnny on how stupid she's been and this whole awful day have reduced it even further. There are more cracks in the walls she set up between herself and Matt than there are clusters in the Simulation. Complete erosion will happen once he ducks his head down just a bit and she tilts her chin.

One inch. Maybe even less. That's all the distance that their mouths have left when CID breaks over the P.A.

"You will want to see this if you wish to procure Keith David and rescue Kinzie."

It's not really a choice or anything; CID plasters all of the screens with the call to hear the new president speak and the location as he says that. Both she and Matt lose interest in their…whatever this is going to be, rushing to examine. He doesn't let go of her hand, though. Fray puts down the ice pack and lets her arm hang, fingers linked with Matt's.

"It's a trap," he says softly, bringing up a visual of the gathering crowd. "He's not even trying to hide it."

"That's because he doesn't have to," she says. "He knows we'd never leave Kinzie behind."

"Nope," he agrees. A half-smile flashes her way and Fray sees the worry behind it. She squeezes his hand. "To be continued?"

"Try and stop me." For the first time in what feels like an eternity, the thing in her chest is no longer a black hole. They don't hug, that would be too tempting, and their focus is Kinzie right now. Matt does follow her over to her pod though, and offers Fray an arm as she steps up.

"I'll be watching your back, yeah?" he says as he closes her in.

"I'm counting on it."

**2. Matt**

While he will never admit it, Matt is nervous about running things without Kinzie. For all the animosity that still lingers between them, he isn't exactly inclined to this near-vegetative state that Zinyak's forced her into, either. He feels exposed as he combs through code and traces, even more so because of what he's got to lose now should this all go tits up.

Knight in shining armor Matt is not and never will be. But even battle-tanks like Fray need buffer and that much he can offer.

At least until she disappears.

One minute she's reunited with Keith and the next Zinyak's there, kidnapping the vice president. Fray gives chase then blips off his radar.

"Where did she go?" Shaundi asks. She, along with CID are working overtime to full the Kinzie gap. Or rather, working to not make it so hugely empty.

Matt ignores the worry in her eyes and swallows down his own dread. "Shit. Shit. Shit." He scans the code and re-scans; hoping he's just missed her signature.

"It appears that the Boss has fallen into a pocket dimension," CID says, pulling up a new window on Matt's primary screen. He recognizes the type of code at once. An oubliette. "If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that it is a prison built for the vice president."

"What happened to our line, though?" Shaundi asks. Matt almost jumps; he didn't see her come up to his elbow.

"It has been severed, obviously." Really, it would be stupid to expect any other response from CID. He doesn't have a switch to turn off his bluntness. It doesn't aggravate Matt any less however.

"We know that!" His voice wavers with panic and fury as he glares at CID. "So instead of reiterating that bloody fact why don't you start trying to help us fix it you floating hunk of junk!?" And without further preamble, he jumps back to his console, frantically calling up every failsafe he ever put in and most of the ones that he knows Kinzie put in as well.

Every second that ticks by is one in which Matt discovers a new layer of Hell. It's not fair. It just not fucking fair. This cannot happen. Not now. Not now, when they're _finally_ on the same page or at least so close to it that Matt can taste the absolution.

"Matt."

He ignores Shaundi until she spins him around in his chair. He very nearly punches her in the face. Nearly, he gets a snarl out then a common sense synapse in his brain overrides his anger; he can't help Fray if he gets himself killed after all.

In a magnanimous gesture, for Shaundi anyway, she only raises an eyebrow at his scowl. Instead of getting slapped as he would under any other circumstance, she shakes him. There's nothing gentle about it or anything but upon later reflection it is by far kinder than anything he should expect from Fray's right hand-woman.

"Goddammit, Miller, _breathe_," she orders. "You won't do her any good if you can't keep your shit together."

He listens because what else do you do when Shaundi barks at you? Nothing. The answer is nothing.

"She'll be fine, Matt." Shaundi pronounces each word slowly, as if he needs to lip read. "She always is. But losing your mind won't help her. So go back to watching the code and do it without cracking the damn keyboard, all right?"

"How do you know?" He just _has_ to push his luck. "How in the hell can you be sure that she'll walk out of this?"

Today, Shaundi's patience is apparently limitless. "Miller, that woman has been blown up, shot in the head, had a dozen monster trucks on her ass, free-based in a lightning storms, and rode a nuclear warhead into the Whitehouse. Literally."

Well, when she says it like that, he does sound a little bit dramatic.

Smirking, Shaundi takes a step back, arms crossed as she looks down at him. He doesn't care for it but Matt also can't say that she isn't entitled. "Between you and me, Zinyak fucked up six years ago. Johnny may be the baddest of all badasses, but you want shit to get done like saving the world? _That's_ Fray's department."

"Oh," is all that he can think to reply with. Which is just as well, since Shaundi is turning away.

It probably shouldn't surprise him anymore, all the unexpected assistance he's getting from people that used to want him dead (and vice versa). Considering that they're all that's left of the (awake) human race and its last shot of living outside of vats. Emotional support however, is a hell of a lot different from basic survival and it's…Nice.

Shit. He may actually be starting to genuinely like Shaundi.

He can be nauseated over this developing camaraderie later though. Right now, Matt's got a sociopath to assist as soon as he can reestablish a connection. Fray promised they were going to talk and he has no intention of letting her off the hook.

**3. The Boss**

"Well, if this isn't the definition of irony," Fray jokes as Matt kneels down beside her, pressing the still cool icepack she'd grabbed for him to her jaw.

Kinzie packs one hell of a punch. Fray isn't even mad about it either. She'll let Kinzie belt her as many times as she wants as long as she doesn't get kidnapped again.

Matt smirks. "Poetic justice might be more accurate actually."

Fray wrinkles her nose at him and then winces. Yep. Kinzie has knuckles made of steel. Luckily, Frayhas a head like a rock, so it's not too bad. "You just have to be right, don't you?"

"I don't have to be," Matt says. "But I won't say that I don't enjoy it."

"Careful," she tells him. "You're gonna sass yourself out of all of those I'm-sorry-blowjobs I was thinking about."

"Really?" he asks, smug and doubtful all at once.

"No. I'm pretty sure you've got like…a million free passes coming your way after all of this shit."

He uses his free hand to smooth a few errant strands away from her forehead. His fingers loiter in her hair, curling just behind her ear. Fray notes that his lipstick has all but worn off and the edges of his mouth are over-pink; he's worried it away.

"You can keep all the favors you think you owe me," he says, thumbing her earlobe. "I'm more than happy with just a kiss."

Fray can't help herself. He says it with such a straight, determined, and adoring look. She chokes twice against the way her chest seizes before giving in to laughter.

"Oh my fuck," she cackles. "Shit. That is the corniest line I have _ever_ heard dropped. That was Josh Birk quality bullshit, Babe."

"Shut up," Matt orders, though he's laughing just like she is. Maybe even more.

"Don't think I can," she says. Fray ignores the pulsing pain in her jaw that spikes with every new muscle used in her ever-widening grin. "Be honest with me, did you steal that from Nyteblade? Have you been _waiting_ to use it? Matt," she grasps his collar, pulling him closer, "did you fucking write that? Is this fanfiction fantasy role-play?"

She could keep teasing, Fray does revel in the red creeping up Matt's neck and cheeks, but alas, it's not to be. He turns the tables on her, stealing the upper hand with his lips. Her laughter is smothered and swallowed up.

The kiss is relief, sloughing away the burden of guilt and angst that's ruined her week. It's a homecoming, one that tells her she's always welcome. Most importantly, this kiss is an epiphany. Fray isn't sure how she survived these last eight days or so without the taste and weight of Matt's tongue, but she never intends to test it again.

"Ouch." Her lip and jaw throb a little more intensely as they part.

"M'sorry," Matt murmurs. He peppers feathery kisses along her chin and across her cheek. He doesn't look very sorry though, not that he should be. Fray certainly isn't.

If anything, he looks buzzed, that dopey smile of his splitting his face apart, eyes glazed. She doubts there's any sort of dignity to her face either.

"Don't be sorry," she says, tugging Matt's body down on top of hers. "Keep doing it and help me get out of this suit."

He laughs against her shoulder. "Right here on the floor? That's going to be a little uncomfortable."

"When has that ever stopped us?" She asks, taking the opportunity to nip his earlobe. Matt whines and shudders. With one of her legs between his, Fray can feel his cock perk up almost instantaneously.

Before she can so much as grab a fistful of zipper though, Kinzie's voice is on the intercom.

"I'm glad you're gonna stop moping but get the hell off of the floor and get back to your pod. Temple made into the Simulation. Gat, Shaundi, and I are on our way back up."

"No," she whines into Matt's collar. "No. No. _No_! I want my make-up sex!"

Matt laughs again, kissing her temple. "Later, I promise. We'll be able to take our time after you go rampage through the system."

"But I wanna ride you like a mechanical bull _now_, baby." She's standing even as she whines. How she manages to rise and keep Matt's body flush against her own has to be a violation of physics. Fray does it though, and only winds her arms tight around his waist once she's up.

Matt's hands slide up her neck to cup her face, turning it up to his. Those too-blue eyes wash over her face like sunlamps, and Fray almost quivers in their warmth. He kisses her slowly, carefully; she feels it in every nerve ending. Fray digs her fingers into his lower back, just shy of his nonexistent, but-still-very-cute ass, pulling his hips into hers.

"Holding you to that," he hums against her mouth.

"Goddamn right you are."

**4. Matt**

He does _not_ hold her to it. With Kinzie safely returned, their ragtag group of miscreants shifts back into overdrive. After she's helped to obliterate Temple, Fray has the parts of a key to pick up and Matt has more work of his own to do so that they remain undetected. Close to ten hours ticks by until they're done. "Done" meaning that they're ready to play their endgame.

They decide almost unanimously that they'll start the clock up again in twelve hours, so long as nothing goes wrong. Kinzie, who as everyone knows is allergic to sleep, is the only dissenting voice.

Fray had stumbled out of her pod looking absolutely drained. He doesn't feel much better, but then he wasn't running around for ages, dodging fire, and nearly being blown up in what is admittedly a _really_ nice tank. Much as he'd like to be, he's just not up for being ridden like a bull (God, does he loathe that) and neither is Fray up for the riding. Not that she doesn't try to keep to her word.

Once everyone's vacated the pod room, Fray moves to where he's leaning on the edge of the center console. She wedges a hip between his knees at the same time that her arms slide around his neck. It happens quickly, almost as if she's falling, but Matt is more than willing to catch her.

For a moment she's immobile, her forehead rests against his collarbone and her upper body sags against his. Matt accepts the weight and encircles her with his arms. He thinks that she's fallen asleep on him until her head shifts and her lips find his Adam's apple.

"I think there was something mentioned about rocking your world," she murmurs against his throat. One arm slips from his shoulder to grasp the zipper on his suit. Matt grabs her hand—gently—and tugs it away.

"The double entendre used was mechanical bull riding," he reminds her with a smile. "And I vote we put that off just a little longer in favor of a nap."

Her mouth opens in protest but Fray stops herself; she's _that_ tired. "Yeah, maybe not a terrible idea." She resumes her first position. "Where are we gonna nap, though? Our old space is kinda occupied."

That's not even remotely difficult. "Not quite."

Fray's eyebrow goes up and Matt pushes her back just so far that he can stand. Grinning, he pulls her through the rear Pod room doors into the cargo bay.

"Aww, baby," she coos, wrapping one arm around his waist as they stand in front of the couch. "The first place we desecrated."

Matt laughs and kisses her temple. "You always did more sleeping out here than in the bed anyway."

"Well, your typing can be pretty hypnotic," she says. A spark breaks through the tiredness that rings her olivine eyes. "Did you know you tap a beat most of the time? It sounds a lot like the Nyteblade theme song."

"And just how do you know what the Nyteblade theme song sounds like?" he asks, not even joking.

Fray rolls her eyes. "Baby, you do remember I'm—_was_—friends with Josh Birk, right? The show he headlined came up a couple of times and I didn't always ignore him. At least not successfully."

There's the kneejerk instinct tell her how he thinks Josh Birk was a subpar choice for the part but Matt refrains. Both exhaustion and the need to finally hold her overpower his fanboy tendencies. If there were _any_ lingering doubts for him that this was love (there weren't) that would dissolve them.

They let go of one another just long enough to strip out of their suits. Fray sheds hers quicker than he does, but then her zipper was already pretty far down _and_ she doesn't have to fight with a modified collar. He feels more than a little bit of frustration when he takes in the sight of Fray standing in her underwear, about to be wrapped around him, and knows neither of them have the energy for sex right now. It's a tragedy.

He'll still take it, though.

Whether it's Fray pulling him down or him pulling her, it doesn't matter. All that matters in the end is that they wind up on the couch with their legs tangled. Fray's head slides beneath his chin, as if the pattern was never disturbed. One hand rests on the small of her back while the other curls at the nap of her neck. Both of her arms fold against his chest. Matt breathes Fray in and closes his eyes.

In the scant seconds between the sealing of his eyelids and being overtaken by sleep, Matt soaks in the moment. He kisses Fray blindly, finding her hair slightly sweat dampened and soft beneath his lips. Her heartbeat drums against his, warm, steady, and soft. He wants this etched in his brain forever, how long forever might be. As tired as he is and as worried as he is about what tomorrow is going to bring, he has never, _ever_, felt more happy or more alive in his twenty-two years. Laying there with Fray is bliss, it is completeness. It's _everything_. What man can't die happy once they've had everything?


End file.
